STEEM-POCALYPSE SURVIVAL GAME CONTEST - Day 6 Round 2

The flaming red ball san lower in the sky until it hit the horizon, turning everything into a magical, hazy red. Rays of light filtered through the trees casting long shadows and turning mundane bushes into fantastical shapes.

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The two bedraggled men saw none of this majesty as they stomped their feet, trying to loosen more of the sand that coated them. They were completely miserable and rubbed raw in some very sensitive places. Unable to find a stream to wash the sand off they were stuck with sandpaper underwear. Neither man found anything in their predicament the slighted bit funny.

As the light faded they found a sheltered spot to rest. With no other option to ease their suffering, they stripped off and beat as much sand as they could from their clothes, and then after wiping themselves down, they dressed in their spare clothes. Somewhere along the way they’d find a place where they could wash the sand out of the clothes they’d been wearing. Until then, the second set would have to do.

Then there was nothing left to do but curl up and wait for sleep.

As night drew in, fireflies came out and danced in the moonlight, their erratic flights charming even the exhausted men as they lay beneath a tree and watched. The bugs didn’t seem to mind puting on a show, and more of them arrived, whirling and dancing as their little lights flickered on and off.

A band of crickets sparked up, adding their tune to the evening’s show. They kept on playing right through the grumbling of the old man’s stomach, never missing a beat. Which just goes to show how professional crickets can be.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” asked the son quietly.

“Dunno, what’re you thinking?” sighed the father.

“I’m thinking Bear Grylls would make a good meal of those crickets. Probably raw, but we could roast them.”

The older man considered for a moment. “They have been a delicacy in various places around the world for centuries. I’ve never tried one though.” He paused a moment then added, “Well, not when I was sober at least.”

Before his father could launch into another tale of his misspent youth (which you can read all about here Hive account@len.george) the son levered himself to his feet.

“We’ll need something to catch them with” he mused.

“Use your shirt” suggested his father, also rising.

“Good idea” exclaimed the younger man, taking off his shirt. He then fashioned it into a kind of net and set off hunting down his elusive quarry in the dark.

While his son participated in the madness of hunting in the dark without a torch, the father gather some twigs and sticks together to build a small fire. If the idiot he called his son, survived long enough to catch a cricket or two, they’d almost certainly taste better cooked.

The snapping of twigs and cursing allowed him to keep track on where is son was, even in the darkness. Eventually the lad returned, covered in scratches and spider webs. He looked almost as bad as he did just after dragging himself out of the quicksand.

But this time he had a prize. He emptied his pockets onto his shirt, laid out on the ground, and presented his father with a good supply of slightly damaged crickets. If they’d bought these in the supermarket they probably would have taken them back. But since these were free range crickets, you had to expect some blemishes.

It took no time for the father to get a good cooking fire going and throw the crickets into a pan.

“How long does it take to cook them?” asked the son, slipping his shirt back on and squatting next to the fire. Its warmth felt good on his tired muscles, and the flickering flames made him drowsy.

“About five minutes less than I’m going to cook them” replied his father.

In truth, it was about ten minutes less because he dozed off for a few minutes. But still, food is food when you’re in a survival situation, and you have to take what you’re given. So they sat and picked through the roasted crickets and filled their bellies as much as they could.

Then with the fire reduced to glowing coals, they curled up and surrendered themselves to sleep.

Stories in this series

Check out my stories here on Steemit

Also don't forget to check out my Dad's blog

Who else can tell you stories about impersonating an officer, stealing a military aircraft to go on a booze run, or steal military aircraft and go on an unsanctioned bombing run - and that's all before he turned 18!

Check out Hive account@len.george and find out what other madness he got up to!

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STEEM-POCALYPSE SURVIVAL GAME CONTEST - Day 6 Round 2 - the Kiwi's story

Stories in this series

Check out my stories here on Steemit

Running Deer

Charlie Rabbit

Little Peppers Adventures

Dark Angel Regiment of the Space Marines - Mission Files

Other stories

Also don't forget to check out my Dad's blog